by Lily Ryan
Thinking about it angers me. I need to snap the fuck out of this. I’m hiding from the world. A prisoner to public opinion. Why? Because I was caught kissing Chance. A kind, caring, sexy as hell man that happens to be younger than I am. So what? We’re both consenting adults. We did nothing wrong. Besides, what woman in her right mind wouldn’t kiss him if she had the opportunity?
I can handle the whispers and rumors. I could live with the scrutiny. It’s Timmy I worry about. And because of this, I’ve allowed my son to bully me into solitude. Last I checked he needs my permission to do things, not the other way around.
It’s time for me to stop this madness. I miss Chance more than I thought possible. I didn’t think anything could come close to how I felt in the early days of Mike’s death, but this far surpasses it. At least then, I could lose myself in Timmy. In taking care of him, making sure he was okay. Now I have nothing to help get me through the day.
My stomach roils. I feel sick. I’m so upset, so worn down that even it wants nothing to do with me and works under protest. I want to crawl back into bed and close my eyes, but I don’t. I force myself to put on make-up and get out of the house. Today is the first day of operation take back my life.
*
I type a message and delete it. I don’t know what to say. I’ve already left an apology on Chance’s voicemail. A few apologies. That was two weeks ago. He hasn’t gotten back to me. It’s probably time to move on and forget him, but I can’t. He worked his way too deep in my heart.
Two weeks ago I forced myself to go shopping and buy something sexy. I planned to wear it and go to his house to not only say how sorry I am, but to show him. I went to a store that caters to the younger crowd and bought a short, tight dress.
I scheduled an appointment with a high class salon I never used before to have my hair and make-up done. I looked good. Really good. The make-up hid the bags and how sunken in my cheeks are. I hardly recognized myself.
At home I got dressed and took a last look in the mirror before I left. I turned from side to side admiring how good, how different, I looked. I didn’t look like me at all. That was the problem. While my make-up never looked so good, the woman put it on so heavy, it looked and felt more like a mask than something to enhance my looks.
I chickened out of confronting Chance. I’d have no problem going to him like that if that was the norm, but not to apologize and try to win him back. He didn’t fall in love with a slut version of me. He fell for the good girl version of me. He fell for who I really am, not who I’m trying to be.
I’ve been forcing myself to leave the house, even though I’m bone tired most of the time. If I could sleep it wouldn’t be so bad, but this half an hour at a time bullshit is killing me. Sleep for half an hour stay awake for two hours. Every day is the same. Except lately I’m actually sleeping for two hours and awake for half an hour. I guess my body needs to make up for the sleep I lost. It’s not like I’m twenty years old.
Today I’m going to brave the grocery store in town. Once I left the house I decided to go to one a few towns over where I don’t know anyone. So far my strategy worked. I didn’t see a familiar face. I can’t hide forever. And the truth is, I don’t want to. I’m too tired, mentally and physically. If someone has something to say, let them say it to my face.
On line to pay the cashier, my stomach makes a loud angry sound. Shit, I don’t know the last time I ate. I can’t stand to even look at food, let alone eat it. Another loud growl catches the attention of the cashier and the woman behind me. Both women smile sympathetically. I guess we all have our days.
After packing the groceries away in the car I walk to a pizzeria further down in the strip mall. Pizza’s the healthiest fast food, and I don’t feel like putting anything together at home. I walk in, place my order and look for a table to sit at.
My heart drops ten stories below the ground. Chance. A woman. Holding hands. Tears prick my eyes. I can try to be brave all I want, this time I won’t succeed. He’s not supposed to be here. He’s supposed to be in school. Not out with another woman.
No wonder he hasn’t called or texted. He’s moved on. So much for love. Guess his love doesn’t run as deep as mine, because there’s no way in hell I could even think about another man, let alone be out with one.
I want to change my order, and take it to go, but my stomach reminds me of why I’m here. It continues its campaign to humiliate and embarrass me. That’s what I get for leaving it completely empty.
While I wait for my slice of pizza to be ready, I can’t help myself. I gawk at them. She’s a young blonde. I shouldn’t be surprised. But I am. I believed his lies, hook, line and sinker.
Once my dish is ready, I sit down at table. I position myself so that I’m not facing them, not looking at them. But I can’t help looking over every few seconds. Wanting to eat even less now than I did when I got in here, I chew my food slowly.
“Ash, no!” His voice carries over to me.
Ash? Ashley. No wonder he looks so chummy with her. She’s his first love. The one he wanted a future with. The one.
“Stop being so silly,” she says, with a smile in her voice. I hate her. “I’ll be right back.”
I watch her walk away looking for something, anything wrong with her. But I can’t find anything. No ugly wart on her nose. No hunch in her back. Not one fucking little imperfection.
Is it wrong to hate someone so vehemently just because they exist? I have no right, no reason to hate Ashly, but if the ceiling caved in right now and every piece of it fell on her head, I wouldn’t be upset. In fact I’d cheer.
What has this man reduced me to?
He’s looking down into his soda, toying with the straw. He’s much better at this game than I am. I fucking hate that while I’m here eating my heart out, he won’t even look at me. Fine, I’ll force him to look at me. I’ll get in his face.
Before Ashley returns, I get out of my seat and approach Chance. He looks up, His leg bounces under the table as if he’s nervous. Our eyes meet. For the first time in six weeks, I get to fall into those pools of jade. Only I can’t bare looking at them because they’re hard and cold. I focus on his lips. Lips that have kissed every part of my body. Lips I’m longing to taste and feel.
STOP!
I swallow hard and take a deep breath.
“I’m sorry.”
“For?”
It’s hard to find words. “I handled everything wrong. I should’ve listened to you. And I never should’ve let you leave.”
He nods, but doesn’t say anything. Why won’t he say anything?
Ashley returns and slips into the booth across from Chance. I see questions in her eyes as he reaches across the table and takes her hand in his. I plan on being the one to answer them, but my stomach has other plans. My stomach spasms. Shit. I run from the table into the bathroom and heave.
I hate throwing up. Tears stream down my face even though I’m not crying, as a mixture of bile and pizza keep forcing their way out of my stomach. Fuck, and I didn’t even eat that much. When I’m done in the bathroom, I spend time cleaning myself up: rinsing my face and swishing water around in my mouth.
I hope he’s gone. The last thing I want to do now is face Chance.
Ashley waits for me outside the bathroom door. I was wrong. The last thing I want is to have to deal with her.
“Would you like a ride home?” She asks, handing me my purse.
Is she being nice or does she want to rub my face in the fact that she’s the one with Chance now? The one he thinks about, the one he loves.
“No, thank you.”
“I think we should talk.”
“Please, just go. I can’t do this.”
“Have it your way.” She walks away, with a slight shake of her head. Bitch! Boy do I hate her.
Chapter 20
I’m at the stove frying meatballs when Timmy walks through the front door.
“Timmy,” I call.
No answer.
I’m done with this. With his cold shoulder and one word answers. I’m so fucking done. I’ve given him time and space, now it’s time to shake him up and get in his face.
“If you don’t get over here by the time I count to three, I’m coming in your room and taking a hammer to your guitar.”
That does the trick. Counting always worked when he was younger and nothing seem to matter to him as much as his guitar. I hear his footsteps coming nearer.
“What?”
My mouth drops. His face has dried up blood, and his eye is purple, as if it’s bruising. He’s been fighting. Before I ask any questions, I reach into the freezer, pull a bag of frozen peas from it, and hand it to him.
“What happened?”
“Nothing,” Timmy says holding the bag over his eye.
“Bullshit! Timothy Michael Doherty, I’ve had it with you. I am your mother, whether you like it or not, so enough of the cold shoulder bullshit, you’re going to tell me what the hell is going on, or I’m calling the police and you could tell them.”
“I’m fine. Okay? I just got into a scrape with the ass-wipe that threatened Arianna.”
“Did he threaten her again?”
“No he was talking trash about you. Are you happy? All the fucking boys at school think you’re a fucking prostitute. And I’m sick of fucking hearing it. I wish you weren’t my mother! Just leave me the fuck alone!”
I don’t hear the end of my son’s rant. It’s as if someone shut my hearing off. And darkness creeps in all around me, from every angle. My head feels funny. Dizzy. I reach for Timmy, but it’s too late, I can’t grab onto him, can’t secure my feet on the ground.
I try to scream as my legs give way beneath me and I hit the ground.
*
I dream of Chance. It’s the first good dream I’ve had of him since we broke up. The first time he speaks to me, and holds me, and assures me everything is going to be all right. I don’t want to wake up. I want to stay here, where I’m happy.
“Oh my God, Mr. Carter. I’m so sorry! I didn’t know who else to call, she just . . . she’s been miserable and depressed, and I only make things worse.” Timmy rambles quickly, in a high pitched voice. “She fucking passed out and it’s my fault. I was so mean, and I told her I didn’t want her to be my mother.”
“It’s okay, Tim. She knows you didn’t mean it.”
“Yeah, but If she dies . . .”
“Whoa. Hold on. She’s not going to die.”
“You don’t know that.”
Timmy’s hysterical. I want to open my eyes and reassure him I’m okay, and I forgive him, but I don’t. Because I’m selfish. Chance is here, and I’m afraid the second I open my eyes, he’s going to bolt out the door.
“Tell me what happened. Can you do that?”
Timmy sniffles. “I came home and she was cooking. And then she threatened to smash my guitar if I didn’t come out of my room. She saw my face and freaked.”
Someone strokes my hand before lifting it and rubbing their thumb back and forth. I can’t mistake that touch. It’s Chance. He’s here and he’s touching me.
“And then I said some really mean shit to her and she looked like she was reaching out for me, but I moved so she couldn’t touch me. I didn’t help her. I just let her fall.” My son sobs. “I didn’t know this was going to happen.” His cries are muffled. Muted. I hope Chance is consoling him.
“Hey, whatever happened, it’s not your fault. She loves you more than anything. Trust me, once she opens her eyes she’s going to tell you just how much.”
“No. I’ve been such a dick. To both of you. I can’t believe you’re even talking to me. Please, Mr. Carter, please make her better.”
“Ah, Tim, all we can do is wait and see what the doctors have to say. As far as me being here, I told you I would, no matter what.”
“That was before. I’m so sorry. Everything got so fucked up. I was losing Arianna and then my mother. I had no control of anything. I didn’t know what to do. So I ruined everything. Why didn’t you go to the police? Why don’t you hate me?”
“Because I‘ve been where you are. We do stupid things and lash out at the people that love us. Later we regret them. Don’t get me wrong, I was pissed at you. Still am. But I didn’t think you really wanted to hurt me. Besides, I haven’t taught you all my tricks. I could still take you down if I have to.” I hear lightheartedness in Chance’s voice.
“You’re pissed, but you came anyway?” Timmy sounds confused and broken.
“That’s what you do when you love someone. You make sure you’re there when they need you, no matter what.”
“You really love her?”
A chair scrapes across the floor. “I do. Very much.”
“She loves you, too. All she does is cry and mope around. I wish I could go back and handle it different.”
“I know what you mean. I have a confession. I ran into her today, and I wasn’t very nice. I basically ignored her. If I could do it over, I’d tell her that I love her. That I’m mad as hell at her, but I’m losing my shit without her.”
That’s all I need to hear. My eyes flutter open. I turn toward the men I love. Timmy notices first. He rushes over to the bedside and holds on to the guard rail.
“Mom! I’m so sorry I was such a dick. Just get better, and I’ll never do anything like that again.”
“Language,” Chance warns.
“It’s okay.” My voice is lower than I expect. Weak. “I’m just glad you’re here.” I smile at my son.
Chance squeezes my hand and leans forward in the chair, closer to the bed. His pained eyes say more than words could.
“I’m glad you’re here, too,” I squeeze his hand back.
“How much of our conversation did you hear?” Chance asks with a smirk.
“Enough.”
“Kim I—“
“It’s okay. We’ll talk about it later?”
He nods. “Do you need anything? Is there anything I can get you?”
I look at the monitor I’m hooked up to, then up at the bag of clear liquid attached to an IV they placed in my other hand.
“I’d like something to drink. Some water or juice.”
“Okay.”
Chance gets up and Timmy takes his place.
He only sits for a minute when a very young male doctor enters the room and kicks Timmy out.
“I love you, Mom,” my son says before leaving.
“Are you feeling better?” The man asks with a smile.
“Much.”
“You were dehydrated.”
“I guess that’s from throwing up so much. I don’t even want to look at food.”
“Well that’s certainly not the answer. You need to eat, and make sure you drink a lot to counteract the morning sickness,” he says, moving his stethoscope around my belly. “Otherwise you risk losing the baby.”
“The what?” Chance and I say at the same time.
Once I heard morning sickness, I forgot about Chance and Timmy and everyone else in the world besides the doctor. I didn’t realize Chance came back in the room, and I’m afraid to look at him. Afraid this is the straw that will drive him away for good.
The Doctor’s eyes narrow on me. “You do know that you’re pregnant don’t you?”
I swallow hard, this can’t be happening.
“No. There must be some mistake. I can’t be pregnant.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m going through menopause.”
“Did your doctor tell you that you couldn’t get pregnant?”
“Not exactly, but I wasn’t able to conceive before that, and I haven’t had my period in half a year.”
“You can go many months without ovulating, then an egg drops at just the right time, it gets fertilized, and you’re pregnant.”
“Do we know how far along she is?” Chance asks.
“No. But since you didn’t know, we could have someone come in and give you an ultrasound while your IV fin
ishes. That should be able to give you an idea of when you’re due.”
The doctor leaves. Neither of us say anything. Chance hasn’t moved.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.” I say freaked out. “I had no idea. I thought I couldn’t get pregnant.”
He steps forward, puts the juice and straw down on the rolling table next to the bed. Chance takes my hand, he takes a long look into my eyes, and then a deep breath. Still no words leave his mouth, and I have no clue to what he’s thinking.
“Chance? Are you oaky?”
He lets go of me and paces the small area next to my bed with both hands behind his neck.
“Chance, please say something. Anything.”
He shakes his head. “Ashley told me you were throwing up in the bathroom. I didn’t even consider that you might be pregnant.”
Ashley. That’s the one word I wish he didn’t say.
“Ashley. You’re back with her.”
Chance just looks long and hard at me, his face, his eyes give nothing away. No confirmation. No denial.
“What do you want me to say, Kim? I mean you’ve made it perfectly clear you didn’t want me. Every time something uncomfortable comes up, your instinct is to give up and run.”
“I didn’t run.”
“No. This time you made me the bad guy. You pushed me away. Shoved me out the fucking door.”
“I wanted to protect my son.”
He shakes his head. “That’s exactly it. You made your decision and didn’t care about what I thought. Is that how it’s going to be with a baby? You’re just going to dismiss whatever I think or feel because you know better? Because you’ve been through it before and I haven’t?”
“I would never—“
“But you did.”
“That’s not what I did. Don’t pervert my concerns. Timmy still has a hard time with losing his father. Mike and I didn’t break up. We didn’t disagree. He was killed. Shot in the head. I do the best I can with all of it.” I pause for a beat and get back to the problem at hand. “Chance, this is different. I need to know, do you want this baby?”
